


The Bigger Picture

by levitatethis



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-18
Updated: 2010-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylar never asked for Mohinder, but now that he's got him in his life...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bigger Picture

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mylar Fic Holiday Prompt Table: "Under the Christmas Tree"

As a child, Gabriel looked forward to Christmas morning, even though the presents Santa brought were more practical than fantastical, more grounded than whimsical. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out Santa was a hoax (not when mom clapped her hands excitedly as he unwrapped _another _present he hadn't asked for and dad ruffled his hair telling him the book was better than the video game because he could create his own worlds instead of accepting the one already shown to him as fact), but Gabriel didn't mind so much.

Disappointment aside, he always ended up loving the books he received and given where his life would end up later, the imaginative fires stoked served him much better, made him think outside of the restrictive box which suffocated so many others. As his dad would say, “You see the big picture, Gabriel. Most people can't.” And though his mom made him blush and cringe with her overly sentimental, “You're going to be somebody some day. I know it,” the words resonated deep inside, even when he packed them away for a few years as one of many, 'I want, doesn't get,' resignations.

Regret tinged his actions, but he made peace with it. Such was life.

He stopped caring, out right, when he stepped out of the shadows as Sylar and realized--_knew_\--he could simply take what he wanted, exactly as he desired, with no substitutions. He built himself up with each strike that took another down. Each recoil or cowering quiver reinforced his armor. Every plea for mercy steadied his resolve. He took because he could, because he deserved it; his entitlement knew no bounds.

Sylar reveled at the feeling of a new ability clicking into place, justifying his unique existence. Peter may have considered himself the better man, but they both knew the worth that came with _working_ for a coveted reward.

It was all about being a good boy. And in Sylar's case it came with fulfilling a pre-ordained destiny. He wasn't about to accept lumps of coal.

When Mohinder wasn't glaring at Sylar in Peter's apartment (as Petrelli carefully doled out information about a dangerous Special who needed to be contained), he was ignoring Sylar (purposely moving in the opposite direction to avoid mistaken touches or forays into personal space), or studying him (caught staring too intently with an inquisitive question heavy in his lined brow).

Setting aside the occasions when they did speak to each other--for work, in an attempt to pass the time when they were stuck together--Mohinder's continued place in Sylar's life, the very fact that Mohinder accepted the tenuous partnership (or at least promised Peter he would work in conjunction with Sylar, if at a distant arm's length) instead of refusing point blank, was as thrilling (even more so during the times Sylar really took a moment to consider it) as watching another succumb to his will.

Of course, Sylar kept his regard for Mohinder well under wraps. It would do no good to reveal the kink in his otherwise indifferent façade, which could be used against him at a later date. Sylar liked the idea of Mohinder from afar. Sylar could get lost in the lines of contemplative intensity on Mohinder's face and the peek of a tiny smile when he didn't realize he was being watched. Sylar admired the conviction with which Mohinder spoke (even when Mohinder was far from sure about the outcome); the relentless pursuit for knowledge, and the accent…well, the accent didn't hurt. Sylar was drawn to Mohinder's willingness to throw himself into dangerous situations, knowing they could end badly, but believing it necessary all the same.

Mohinder was something that couldn't be boxed up and gift wrapped, put in place while no creatures were stirring in return for cookies and milk. He wasn't a once a year thought, but a relentless presence Sylar didn't know was an intricate part of his life until Mohinder was already fully ingrained in it.

Better than the anticipation on Christmas Eve and the awakening come Christmas morning; Mohinder was another thing Sylar never asked for yet came to hold on to dearly within a tight fist. Unwilling to chance losing what Mohinder rushed through him, Sylar bit back the slipping confessions that teased on his tongue, and busied his hands by showing off his arsenal of abilities on any inanimate object nearby.

Keeping Mohinder frustrated and annoyed with him was an acceptable alternative to being definitively hated. He liked to think Mohinder suspected the connection Sylar felt (Mohinder was certainly observant enough), even if they both kept quiet on the issue. The very thought that it was one sided made Sylar anxious and liable to lash out at anyone--which, in turn, would cause Mohinder to fume and argue with Peter that Sylar would never change or truly be trustworthy.

The cycle was ongoing and Sylar found himself drawing on learned lessons from his childhood--see the big picture, let his mind run with it, and appreciate its every twist and turn. After all, Mohinder was a person someone of Sylar's stature absolutely deserved.

And Sylar always--eventually--got what he wanted.


End file.
